Capistrano swallow, answer to your inner voiceAnd please return,God installed that radar in your pointy little beakSo you'd return.Epileptic surgeons with their eyes x'ed outAttend to the torn up kid.Salivate and reckon with all the sick thingsThat you did.The secondary stumbles cause the cadence of the countHas lead them astray,Pray their intuition leads them crashing into bodiesIn a perfect way.But I, I saw you reeling in a parking lot,I, I saw you rallying round a parking lot,Line up for the comfort and kick it on the bumper,Know (no?) there is no leewayYou're standing on the freeway in love,Motion, you were destined for the paupers grave.Architecture students are like virginsWith an itch they cannot scratch,Never build a building till you're 50What kind of life is that?Stalled out on an escalatorWishing which way to return up or down,My Palestinian nephew got his face blown offIn a dusty craft.